Who Shot the Serif Page 8

"Anyone from town see you? Wave to you? Say hi?"

  Angel looked at me suspiciously.

  "I'm hoping you saw someone else I can talk to. Someone else who might have seen something. Any early customers?"

  She relaxed, and I patted myself on the back for covering so well.

  "No," she said.

  My face fell. I was a good actor. "If you think of anybody, you'll let me know?"

  "Absolutely." She paused. "But, Jamie, you should leave this to Ridge. You know he's doing everything he can to solve this." The inflection in her voice indicated she thought Ridge would go to the mat for me.

  Angel was a romantic. It was sweet of her, but Ridge would do his duty. If he thought I was the killer, he'd arrest me. He'd exhaust every other avenue first, but ultimately…

  Unfortunately, he wasn't moving fast enough right now to be my knight with a badge.

  "The coffee's great." I pushed back from the table. "Much as I hate to, I have to get back to work. I have a lot to do before the bridal fair."

  Angel sighed. "Coffee breaks are always too short. It feels good to be off my feet."

  "Angel, I'm still puzzling about that quote on my door—you haven't seen anyone suspicious around Flourish, have you?"

  She shook her head. "If I had, I'd tell you immediately." She looked at me kindly. "Take care, Jamie."

  Now that even friends were suspects, the simplest pleasantries took on ominous meanings. How much care should I take?

  Back at Flourish, I mulled over my conversation with Angel. She was lost in her own lies. The rest of us were constantly confused by her big family and who was who, but not Angel. She'd messed up twice. Which led me to believe she was lying and had forgotten which aunts she claimed had died. But the more disturbing thing was that she had no alibi for the time of the murder. Angel admitted to seeing Earleen alive and jogging. But also that no one had seen Angel and could vouch for her. I was pretty sure none of my suspects could provide reliable alibis. Which meant that any one of them could be the murderer. I couldn't eliminate any of them.

  Chapter Eleven

  I got out my display chalkboard signs from the fall bridal fair. I don't like to display the same material at both the spring and fall fairs. Too many brides and wedding coordinators go to both. And the wedding industry is very trendy. Things change from one wedding season to the next. I like to feature fresh material to show off my versatility and skills.

  As I erased the chalkboards, my mind was a mad tangle of suspicion and confusion and full of the people I needed to talk to. How could I talk to Jack without making him suspicious? Odd little bits floated around as I tried to make sense of them.

  Lettering was the only thing keeping me sane. I was eager to dive in. When I lettered, I relaxed and let my mind process in the background. I was still cleaning the boards when the door opened.

  Wanda Paul lingered in the doorway, talking to a group of Cedar Valley's elite and making a grand show of stopping by Flourish. She waved to people on the street and greeted people walking by. The Paul family was one of Cedar Valley's founding, and most prominent, families. Her husband, Paul Paul, owned the real estate company in town. I'd done a favor for Wanda earlier and solved a small mystery for her. It was obvious to me that this was Wanda throwing her support behind me. My eyes misted up. I met her in the middle of the shop.

  "Jamie!" Wanda gave me a big hug. "Preparing for the spring bridal fair?"

  "And hoping they don't kick me out for being a murder suspect."

  "I heard. I don't know what Colleen's thinking." Wanda shook her head. "People are crazy sometimes. If you'd wanted Earleen out of the picture, there were less risky ways than shooting her in your yard. Paul and I are both behind you."

  "Thank you." My voice cracked. "But be careful. Supporting me right now could mean trouble for you."

  "Nonsense. No one crosses the Paul family." She gave me a reassuring smile. "I wanted to tell you not to worry about attendance being low at the monthly wine and lettering night next Wednesday. I have a crowd lined up and will personally twist the arm of any regular who tries to make an excuse not to show up."

  "You're the best," I said.

  Her answering smile was cute and totally Wanda. "I know." She winked. "And I also came in for a few new pens and some advice on my current project. If you're not too busy?"

  "For an old friend?" I asked. "No way. First, pens—what do you need?"

  She told me what she thought she wanted. I asked what she was using them for. She showed me the project on her phone. I made a few suggestions of another size and brand of pen she should try. We settled on a few.

  I rang them up and handed her the bag. "Were the pens the help you needed?"

  She let out an exasperated sigh. "Are you kidding? No! You saw the picture of my work. It's missing something. I have a design problem I can't solve."

  "Text it to me. We'll pull it up on my iPad and take a look." I took a seat at my worktable.

  Wanda sat in the stool next to me.

  When her text came, I brought up her work and spent a minute studying it. It wasn't bad. It just needed a few things to take it to the next level. I grabbed my digital pen and talked her through my suggestions, marking up the picture as I explained my thoughts.

  "Wow," she said when I was finished. "I knew you could make it better." She beamed. "Mine, however, will never look as good as your quick doodles."

  "You'll get there," I said. "I have years of experience on you."

  Wanda slipped the phone into her purse. "FYI, Dana hired Paul to sell Earleen's house. She apparently inherited it. He hasn't even put up a For Sale sign and he's already had two offers."

  I sat up. "Already? That's quick. Earleen's funeral isn't even scheduled yet. Can Dana sell the house so soon? Doesn't she need to go through probate?"

  Wanda shook her head. "Earleen had a death deed on the house. On her death, it transferred immediately to Dana, no probate necessary. Dana's free to sell it anytime she wants. You should think about a death deed. It's very handy for your heirs and takes a lot of pressure off the executor."

  "Are the renovations on Dana's house finished?" I asked, my mind racing. "I'd have thought she'd want to stay in Earleen's until they are."

  "Apparently finished enough," Wanda said. "Speaking of renovations, Paul told Dana she could get a lot more for Earleen's if she fixed it up. She told him to sell it as is. She doesn't care if it sells below market value. She just wants to move it quickly and move on from this tragic time."

  "I guess that makes sense," I said.

  Wanda nodded. "Yeah, from Dana's point of view, why tie up her money and spend the time and effort if she doesn't need the cash? And get this—one of the offers is from Phyllis and Artie."

  My pulse quickened. I didn't hide my surprise quick enough.

  "Yeah," Wanda said. "Phyllis and Artie have wanted a bigger place for a long time, but haven't had the money. Now that Earleen's is on the market for a steal…" Wanda shrugged. "This may be Dana helping Phyllis out. Dana, Phyllis, and Earleen have been friends for a long time. Earleen would have wanted to give her friend first shot at the place."

  I tried not to wince at Wanda's wording.

  Wanda glanced furtively around the shop. "Rosemary's not in today?"

  "It's her day off," I said.

  Wanda relaxed. "Good. I don't want to talk in front of her. She's going to be disappointed. In my opinion, she doesn't stand a fighting chance of beating Phyllis out for the place."

  "Rosemary's the other bidder?" I was stunned.

  "Oops! Maybe I shouldn't have said," Wanda said. "Don't tell Paul I told you."

  "Mum's the word," I said.

  "Dana wants Paul to sell the stationery store for her, too."

  Once you got Wanda talking, she was hard to stop. In this case, there was no way I was interfering with anything she wanted to tell me. I let her go.

  "The business won't bring in anything," Wanda said. "It's dying. But the building, which th
e Culps have owned outright for years, is in a prime location in Lighthouse Gardens. It needs renovating, but that's hardly a hindrance. Half the businesses in this town have had their eye on that property for years. But Earleen was never going to sell. She promised her grandpa on his deathbed that she'd never do it. The only way to get it was over her dead body."

  A shiver ran down my spine.

  "Are you going to make an offer?" Wanda asked. "You really should. It would be a great location for you."

  She was right about that, but I was sure it was out of my price range, and I didn't need that much space. "No. I like it here. And now's not a good time for me to expand." Especially without making it look like I had a further motive to kill Earleen.

  Wanda gave me a sympathetic look. "This is a good location, too." She lowered her voice. "I thought maybe you were going in with Angel on it."

  My eyes went wide. "Angel's making an offer? She's thinking of moving?" How could I lose Perk Me Up? What would I do for coffee? What kind of business would I share a roll-up wall with? There were only so many businesses I'd pair well with.

  Wanda laughed at my panicked expression. "Calm down. Yes, she's offered. She's expanding. She wants a second location. If she gets it, maybe she'll rent you some space. It might be better for you there than at Hallie's."

  But I liked Hallie's. And I didn't suspect her of murder. "As much as I'd love to see another Perk Me Up so convenient to me, it's sad to think of Culp's actually closing."

  "That's surprising, coming from you. I'd have thought you'd be happy to see the competition go out of business."

  I shook my head. "Not me. Competition keeps me on my toes. Besides, Earleen and I weren't really in competition for the same customers. Any competition was mostly in her head."

  "When is Rosemary in next?" Wanda asked.

  "Not until Monday. Why?"

  Wanda shrugged. "Just curious. She's back with Jack, then? That must make her easier to be around."

  "Back with Jack?" I frowned.

  "She isn't?" Wanda looked surprised.

  "Not that she's told me," I said. "What makes you think she is?"

  Wanda leaned close. "Paul saw Jack coming out of Rosemary's house in the wee hours on the morning of Earleen's death."

  "What?" I was completely shocked.

  Wanda nodded. "It looked to Paul exactly what it sounds like to you. Jack was staying over. Paul said Jack had a bounce in his step. It's curious Rosemary hasn't mentioned it to you. Maybe they're just being cautious. You know how it is when you break up with someone and then get back together—you don't want everyone knowing again until you're pretty sure the reunion will stick."

  Wanda stood. "And then there's Earleen. She knows, I mean, knew how to pull strings in this town. Paul says the glamping park wants to install at least two new cabins. They'll need zoning approval. With her connections, Earleen could have stopped that pretty handily."

  I nodded. "I suppose so. But why would Jack care? He doesn't own the glamping park. He just manages it."

  "And gets a hefty bonus every year for meeting certain business metrics. One key metric is increasing business traffic and profits. Two new pods added to the ten the park already has could increase profits by twenty percent. That would make the company who owns the park happy, no doubt. Especially if he needs a little cash for something—like, oh, say, an engagement ring or a down payment on a house."

  "Yes." My mind whirred. Jack has financial incentive for murder. Who knew?

  "Well. I have to be going." Wanda grabbed her purse and purchase. "Hang in there, Jamie. And trust Ridge. He'll figure this out. Justice will win out."

  I walked Wanda to the door and went back to my signs. But first, I texted Nora. I found out some interesting information on the case. Can't talk now. I'm at the shop. Talk later.

  I slipped my phone into my pocket and grabbed my chalk, suddenly inspired. I wanted to think about anything but Rosemary getting back together with Jack, a guy who could be Earleen's killer. Who could have killed Earleen with my gun. And Rosemary could have been the one who stole it for him and was making an offer on Earleen's house. I might have a murder accomplice working for me. A shiver ran up my spine.

  I was lost in my work, thinking about weddings and true love, when the door to the shop opened and Ridge walked in. Just the man I needed to see. Amend that—just the man, depending on his motive for stopping by.

  Chapter Twelve

  I gave Ridge the old up-and-down. Which was never hard to do. He was easy on the eyes, always had been. But this time I was trying to assess more than whether he'd been faithfully maintaining his workout schedule. I was trying to determine whether I needed to make a break for the back door and evade the law.

  "I hope you're not here to arrest me?" Better to ask than be blindsided. Running was probably futile anyway. Ridge had always been faster than I was.

  He rolled his eyes. "Is this going to be the way you greet me from now on?"

  I relaxed and set down the chalk pen I was working with. I rolled my shoulders. I'd been hunched over my work longer than I'd thought. "Depends on how long it takes you to arrest the real killer. Speaking of which—have you found my gun?"

  "No."

  "Are you close to an arrest?"

  "What is this? Twenty questions?" Without being invited, he pulled up the stool Wanda had vacated earlier and took in the work I was doing. "For a single woman, you're obsessed with weddings."

  "I'm obsessed with lettering and keeping my business and passion afloat in the uncertain waters of dark suspicion. And you haven't answered my question."

  "I'm the one who asks the questions around here."

  He was sitting so close to me that I could smell his delectable signature cologne. Back in our younger days, he'd been a grocery store cologne guy. He'd graduated to more sophisticated, and sexy, scents since.

  "Ridge, do you keep your cologne in the refrigerator?" I asked.

  He looked at me like I was a nutball. "That's a non sequitur. Where did that question come from?"

  "Nora," I said. "She says perfume and cologne keep better in the fridge."

  He shrugged. "I keep mine in the bathroom by the sink, where it's handy when I step out of the shower."

  I didn't need that luscious mental visual of him stepping naked out of the shower. I'd seen him skinny-dipping a time or two. That experience was all I needed to conjure up a very good mental image of him. "You're such a guy. And you're ruining your cologne, apparently. Heat and moisture destroy the notes." I was smugly self-righteous for a woman who treated her perfume the same way.

  "Huh." He shrugged. "Heat and moisture are usually good things."

  I ignored the innuendo in his voice. "So you're going to mend your destructive ways?"

  "No. If the cologne smells off, I'll get a new bottle."

  "You're burning money." I grinned at him. "Now, suspects? Arrests? People of interest?"

  "I found out something interesting," he said. "Which is what brings me here today."

  "About Earleen's murder?"

  "Oh," he said, eyes dancing. "About the murder? No, sorry. Nothing. About your shot-up quote."

  "Oh." My hopes fell. "Glad you're working the important cases first. Nothing like solving a petty crime while a good friend goes to the gallows."

  "You've always been so dramatic, James," he said. "Can you tone it down?"

  "Duh. And no way." I rolled my eyes. "My drama is one of my best features. What about the quote?"

  He pulled his phone out. Phones were the ubiquitous crime-solving device these days, apparently. "Why didn't you tell me the quote that was pinned to your door was a numbered original?"

  "What?"

  "It has a watermark on the back. It's archival paper and not the poster reproduction paper the company who prints your quotes uses. See?" He showed me a picture and expanded it for me.

  I took a closer look. "Yes. It is."

  He swiped to the next picture. "And here, at the bottom,
you can see the remains of a number. But not enough to accurately read. You'll note that the hole obscuring the number isn't like the others. This one wasn't made with a BB. It was made with an awl or the point of a pen or pencil. Someone intentionally destroyed the number so the copy couldn't be traced."

  I took a closer look. "Wow. I can't believe I missed that. I was upset when I found it and hadn't had my coffee yet. I guess that explains it. I just assumed it was a regular poster version."

  "Assumptions can be dangerous things. How many numbered copies have you sold of this piece?" he asked. "Do you keep records?"

  I nodded. "On my computer." Minutes later, I handed him a copy of the list. "Two hundred."

  "All right," he said. "I'll check these out."

  I looked around to make sure no one else could hear. Over at Perk Me Up, Angel was nowhere in sight. "You might particularly check out Jack, Artie, and Angel. They've all bought quotes and they all knew where I kept my gun."

  He nodded solemnly. "One more thing—this is strictly confidential." He gave me a steely gaze, pausing until I nodded. "That quote Earleen was holding when you found her body—did you get a good look at it?"

  "Enough to know it was one of mine from a set of greeting cards I sell. And it was full of BB holes."

  He held out his phone to me. There was a picture of one of the cards full of holes. The sight of it made me go cold. He enlarged it so I could see one of the holes better.

  I squinted at it and frowned. "That doesn't look like it was made with a BB."

  "Exactly," he said. "It was made with a sharp, pointed object to make it look like a BB hole. All the holes in the card were made the same way."

  I frowned, puzzled. "What do you make of that?"

  "That you need to be careful." He caught my arm. "James, don't go out alone. Keep your phone on you at all times." He reached into his pocket and pressed a small package into my hand.

  "What's this?"

  "Pepper spray and a Kubotan. I can't give you a gun, but… Carry these with you at all times. Be prepared, James. Be aware of your surroundings."